Temptation in France
by Baker-Street-Potter-Head
Summary: Remember A Game of Flirting? Remember the French trip? Well, what if they had gone whilst Sherlock and Molly were still playing their 'game? xx Three parts and, yes, M rated xx
1. Part I

_Hello, everyone. I have wanted to write this one for a while now ;) Anyway, without further ado, here's my new three part Game of Flirting story...I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading... xx_

* * *

It was dark outside in the streets and the only light in the bedroom of Sherlock Holmes was coming from the lamp on the bedside table. He was lying in the middle of his bed with his eyes closed and hands clasped under his chin, classic mind palace pose. He didn't move when he heard his bedroom door open as he was more than certain he knew who it was; he could see her, in his mind, her hair swishing around her and she was wearing that seductive smile and very nice red dress he fantasised so much about since the bathroom incident. She slowly closed the door and sauntered forwards, kicking off her heels and closing the door softly behind her. Sherlock closed his eyes tighter, determined to ignore her.

"I am trying to think." She simply laughed and, having reached him, slowly crept up the bed until she was hovering directly over him.

"Stop dreaming about me, then." Sherlock opened his eyes to find her looking down at him, biting her lip. He swallowed as her hands travelled along his chest, resting her fingers playfully on his shirt buttons.

"Molly-"

"Shhh…" her fingers pressed softly against his perfect lips and she dipped her head to kiss along his now bare chest. She hummed appreciatively and Sherlock failed to keep his shiver at bay; his hands had now unclasped and were resting on the bed, itching to run along her desirable body.

"I don't want you…I. Don't. Want. You. Molly. Hooper."

She was now straddling him, sucking at the base of his throat with her hands at his hips, her hair tickling his chest. Sherlock was swallowing urgently, his hands betraying him by beginning to slide up her delicious body. Soon, her front was pressed firmly against the mattress and Sherlock was above her, whispering huskily into her ear.

"Fuck, I want you."

She giggled as Sherlock's hands traced up her sides and he dipped his head to take the zip of her dress between his lips. She gripped the bed sheets forcefully as she could clearly feel her zip being worked down. She moaned softly as Sherlock travelled up her thighs, pulling her dress up and planting his hands firmly on her backside.

"You…have a filthy mind, Mr. Holmes…this dress gets sluttier each time I'm here…" Sherlock groaned against her skin, hating how his hands had a mind of their own.

"It's not my fault. You do this to me."

She twisted herself around beneath him and, after a moment of heavy breathing and staring, pulled him down fiercely by his hair to kiss him passionately. Sherlock responded by seizing her wrists from his hair and pinning them above her head. Soon enough, their clothes were tossed around the room haphazardly and she rolled them over, Molly's name falling from Sherlock's lips like a repeated frantic prayer. Her legs wrapped around him tightly and she arched her back, her lips parted in a plea for him to-

Sherlock snapped his eyes open, now wide awake breathing heavily and sweating immensely. He shook his head vigorously, trying to rid himself of Molly's delightfully writhing image. He extracted himself from his bed sheets and exited his bedroom, adjusting his dressing gown slightly. John watched and frowned when he noticed Sherlock's state.

"Morning, did you want any…" Sherlock hurried past the kitchen and disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him, "…breakfast?"

Sherlock didn't even bother shedding his pyjamas, stepping into the shower and slamming his fist to the cold water button. He didn't even gasp as the ice cold water touched his burning skin, feeling immense relief as the water poured over his highly aroused state. His back hit the wall and his legs gave way as he sunk to the floor, the memory of his dream still too fresh in his mind…

* * *

Sherlock was convinced nothing Molly did anymore would have any effect on him. He had seen it all and he was safe; nothing could work anymore. Then again, that had only been a dream, the reality was always much more tempting. He was sprawled across the sofa and enduring John's questioning looks until the sound of the doorbell sounding had the doctor jumping to his feet. Sherlock released a bored sigh as he heard Mary's shrill voice echoing downstairs and John inviting her into the flat.

"Oh, thank you, I can't stay long…hi, Sherlock," the detective gave an absent nod, not really listening to what she was saying as he slipped into his mind palace, "…I've got to finish packing-"

"Packing? Where are you going?" John folded his arms in confusion as Mary rolled her eyes; Sherlock tried desperately to block out their voices and focus on what Molly was doing to him in his mind.

"I told you, John. I'm going to France for the weekend with Molly," just like that, Mary had Sherlock's undivided, albeit slightly irritated, attention. John bit his lip, _now_ remembering his girlfriend previously telling him, "…it's an annual thing we do. Originally, it was so we could meet some men but I suppose that's down to Molly, now."

John nodded in agreement, thrusting his hands into his pockets awkwardly. Sherlock frowned; he had no right to tell Molly not to go, they weren't actually _involved_ after all. He clenched his fists; he wondered if she'd still sleep with other men even though they were playing their game. Nevertheless, he had to ensure she didn't…

"That sounds nice…in fact, John and I were just discussing how lovely the weather in France is this time of year," John frowned in confusion, as Sherlock gave a fake grin, "…it would make a pleasant change to leave London for a while."

Mary tilted her head; **did he just…invite himself along or what? **Shaking her head slightly, she turned to John and shrugged.

"Do…you want to come, then?"

"Yes."

John answered quicker than he had anticipated; it would be their first trip away together and John was eager to move forward in their relationship. Mary smiled widely and kissed the tip of his nose affectionately. She glanced behind her at Sherlock to accept him too, only to find the sofa empty. John sighed in defeat.

"He's probably gone to pack or something..." Mary nodded and felt her boyfriend pulling at her arm, "…we'd better do me to."

"Alright, but then we've got to pack…" John giggled softly as they moved into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

* * *

Sherlock drummed his fingers impatiently against the frame of Molly's door. He heard her gentle footsteps  
across the wooden floor of her flat and subconsciously licked his lips. Molly opened the door irritably, a smirk creeping onto her face when she realised it was the detective behind it. He pushed past her with an annoyed huff and turned to face her, ignoring her obvious state of undress beneath her dressing gown.

"When were you going to tell me about France?" Molly raised her eyebrows, folding her arms as he released an annoyed sigh and moved down the hall to her bedroom. Molly smirked and followed him; he was searching through her suitcase when she entered.

"Um…it's none of your business what I do until you end the game," he let out a snort of laughter, narrowing his eyes at her choice of clothes, "anyway, why do you care?"

He ignored her and removed a particularly unsavoury item, holding it up and turning to face her, "…I don't think _this _is appropriate. Although, I am pleased about the lack of swimwear…"

Molly started to giggle and Sherlock frowned, watching as she stepped forwards. She took her lingerie from his hands and dropped it back in the case, locking eyes with his.

"As much as I'd love for you to root through my clothes, I think it worth mentioning that Mary texted me…" Sherlock held his breath, quirking his eyebrow as Molly licked her lips, "you and John are joining us, then?"

"Yes." Molly beamed and reached up to caress his shirt softly.

"Well, now you see why it was appropriate," Sherlock hated himself for releasing that deep groan, "and as for the swimwear, what do you think is under my dressing gown? I needed to try it on…I thought it might be too small…"

Sherlock would have seized her then and thrown her onto the bed, giving up immediately, if it hadn't have been for her seductive wink and walking into the living room. Sherlock followed her quickly and wrapped his fingers loosely around her wrist, spinning her around to face him. Darkened brown eyes met lust-filled blues as Molly bit her lip and Sherlock tilted his head, leaning forwards until he was inches from her lips.

"…is there a possibility we could 'pause' our little game? For the time being? We haven't even discussed any _rules_…what counts as losing?" Molly swallowed, feeling his warm breath on her face and willing him to move closer; she was frozen to the spot, "…gentle touches?" He softly caressed her arm and relished her breath catching, not expecting how husky his voice would become, "…innocent skin-to-skin contact?" He lightly nudged the tip of her nose with his, delighting in her shiver before whispering in an unmistakeable tone, "…a lingering yet exhilarating kiss?"

She swallowed, prepared for anything…except for Sherlock _actually _brushing along her lips tenderly without pressing them against hers. Her fingers were begging her to pull him by the hair to meet her lips properly and Sherlock himself seemed unsatisfied by the sweet action. A resounding knock to Molly's door made them both snap out of their starved stares and Molly released an impatient sigh. Ignoring Sherlock's smug snigger, she quickly moved to the door and found Mary waiting with her arms folded.

"Hi, Molly, are you pack-oh, _hello_ Sherlock. What are you doing here, I wonder?"

Sherlock gave her a fake smile before winking subtly at Molly and departing the flat without another word. Mary turned to her flustered friend with a knowing smile.

"Hmm, what was _that_ about…and don't tell me it was 'just talking'. No one gets that red-faced with just 'talking'." Molly fanned her flushed face and stepped aside for Mary to enter.

"No, it was _just talking_…what else would we be doing?" Mary rolled her eyes and grimaced, shaking her coat off.

"I suppose you're right, this _is _Sherlock Holmes we're talking about. Now, have you finished packing…we're leaving soon." Molly nodded and followed her friend into the bedroom, glancing back at the door; she could have sworn she saw a pair of blue eyes, a cheeky smirk and the swish of a coat before she disappeared inside…

* * *

Sherlock and John were soon waiting outside Molly's building with their things loaded in the cab. John helped Mary with her luggage, much to Sherlock's annoyance as he was left with Molly. She had purposely left the clasps to her small bag undone so when Sherlock lifted it, the entire contents spilled onto the pavement…of course, it was mostly underwear. Mary raised her eyebrows and John huffed, his face flushing as he bent to help Molly pack it away again; Sherlock appeared to have slipped into a trance.

He found it impossible to relax on the way to the harbour; he was pressed uncomfortably close to Molly. **I cannot believe I agreed to this. **Molly breathed deeply, her chest pressing into his as she did so and locking eyes with his. **Although, the fresh air might just bring her to her senses. **Sherlock glanced over her, trying to figure her out; it wasn't as easy as it used to be.

"Sherlock? Are you ok, you haven't said a word since we left?" John had turned around from the front passenger seat. Sherlock lifted his head from the hand resting on the window.

"Thinking." John rolled his eyes at the low mutter and turned back to converse with the cheerful driver. Molly smirked and cleared her throat softly.

"About what, I wonder." Sherlock hid his smirk and turned to face her slowly. **This is going to be a long weekend.**

* * *

Molly blew her hair out of her face as she tapped the edge of the bar. She couldn't take it anymore on the ferry deck with the loved up John and Mary…even Sherlock had buggered off somewhere. She gestured at the barman and he refilled her glass with a nervous look.

"It's quite early, my love," Molly shook her head and downed the searing liquid. The barman winced and gave a small clap.

"Well, I'm impressed. I'm usually serving tea and coffee around this time." Molly giggled and released a deep sigh, dropping her head into her arms. The barman nodded, leaning forwards.

"It's a man, isn't it?" Molly lifted her head and chuckled at the kindly barman.

"You don't know the half of it…" the barman rolled his eyes and folded his arms, slinging his tea-towel over his shoulder with a flourish.

"Believe me, sweetheart, I _know_. Forget him, that's the easiest thing…that's what I did with a little help," he waved a bottle of vodka playfully and Molly giggled again. She was startled by a clearing throat behind her and turned around with a deep groan.

"What are you doing? It's too early to drink…"

"Sod off, I'm on holiday." Sherlock frowned and took the glass from her, glaring at the barman who was engaged in conversation with another passenger.

"Whoever gave you responsibility to run the bar was clearly an idiot. It's too early and the bar shouldn't' even be open…" the barman gritted his teeth, pushing himself away from the counter.

"Look, honey, I've been-" he stopped dead when he turned around, fumbling with his tea-towel and Molly held her breath with a shake of her head. The barman gave a wide grin, licking his lips less than subtly, "ooh wow…um, you…you're right. Ah, sorry, pet…I don't know what I was thinking."

Sherlock shook his head and placed his hands in his pockets, failing to notice the barman blatantly staring at his chest hidden beneath the well-fitting purple shirt. Molly was biting her lip with the effort of trying not to laugh.

"That's no excuse. If someone had stumbled outside and fallen overboard it would have been your-"

"I know…from now on, alcohol will be served after lunchtime. Does that sound fair?"

The barman sounded eager, leaning as close as he could to the detective. Sherlock frowned before nodding once, placing a hand to an awkward Molly's shoulder. After a moment, the barman thrust his hand forward.

"I'm Freddie, by the way." Sherlock furrowed his brow, perplexed and staring at his outstretched hand.

"What possible use could knowing that piece of information serve?" Freddie's eyes twinkled deviously.

"None…my phone number, however-"

"I think we should go, Sherlock."

Molly got to her feet and was pulling him quickly away as Freddie titled his head in approval, releasing a short sharp breath. Sherlock smirked slightly as Molly led him through the ferry towards the bathrooms and shoved him inside the ladies. He had been about to say something rather saucy until Molly interrupted him with a stifled giggle.

"You do know that Freddie was flirting with you, right?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows and waited expectantly. When Molly still stared clueless at him, Sherlock sighed.

"You brought me in here just to tell me that?" Sherlock grazed his teeth along his bottom lip as he loomed over her, "here I was thinking you were going to give up…"

All thoughts of before were wiped from her mind as Sherlock gripped her waist loosely as if testing her. Molly raised her eyebrows but he simply smirked, pulling her closer so she was forced to place her hands on his chest. He deliberately stepped forwards until Molly's back collided with the sink, her loosely curled hair falling in front of her cherry patterned dress. She was surprised – not to mention _very _aroused – when Sherlock hooked his fingers under her thighs and lifted her onto the wide sink.

"Careful, Mr. Holmes…you're losing…" Sherlock frowned but only until he felt his first few buttons being worked open. He swallowed and met her black eyes.

"It doesn't look that way, Miss Hooper…"

Their foreheads rested together, her hands in his hair and at his neck, his hands moving her knees either side of his and grazing up her thighs; neither registered the door opening until it was too late. Sherlock had only just managed to slide into the cubicle as Mary stood with a raised eyebrow at Molly. She cleared her throat.

"I…felt seasick."

"That's why you felt the need to, uh, sit on the sink?" Molly simply nodded, fanning her flushed face. Mary sighed deeply and folded her arms, "well, we're here now so-"

Molly nodded again and hurried out of the bathroom without another word; Mary had a quick glance around before shrugging and following her friend. Sherlock stumbled out of the cubicle and ran the cold water from the tap, splashing it around his face and neck; he could still feel Molly's fingers burning his skin…

* * *

Their hotel was marvellous; a splendid white building with a large sign displaying the name Sherlock hadn't bothered to learn – he was more concerned to know if Freddie had followed him off of the ferry. The hotel was well-deserving of its four stars if the lobby was anything to go by; the high ceiling was decorated with a large chandelier and painted the room in a deep orangey glow. The floors were very polished and their shoes squeaked as they crossed the seemingly eerie room. John approached as the other three waited behind him; Mary furrowed her brow when she noticed Sherlock and Molly couldn't seem to stop staring at each other.

"Hmm…nice weather." Ignored. "Should stay like this all the time." Ignored, again. "Although, it could rain." **I don't know why I bother…this is getting very awkward. **"we can get the old bikinis out if its really nice."

They both turned slowly at this and raised their eyebrows; Mary gave a small shrug and a smile, releasing a sigh of relief when John promptly returned with a worried expression. He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced towards the desk, clearing his throat.

"Um…apparently, the hotel weren't aware we were coming, too, Sherlock…they didn't have enough rooms _but,_" he hastily added before he could be bombarded with protests, "they were able to give us two double rooms."

Mary's eyes immediately flicked to Sherlock and Molly whose blood flow had apparently travelled to their faces and they were avoiding each other's gaze…well, _almost. _John shifted uncomfortably as he waited for the detective or pathologist to reply. When Sherlock did, however, his tone had dropped severely.

"Ah…I thought you called and informed them?" John frowned and opened his mouth to protest before Mary added, rather cunningly-

"It doesn't matter, us girls can share whilst you two…" she gestured between them but neither John nor Sherlock seemed too fond of this idea. It was Molly, though, to stamp on it entirely.

"No…it's alright, Mary. You and John should share, after all. Sherlock and I will…cope."

Sherlock found great difficulty in supressing his shiver and dared to peer at Molly. She was shaking ever so slightly, her knuckles turning white from the tight hold she had on her bag. John smiled gratefully as Mary nodded, somewhat knowingly.

* * *

They trudged upstairs to their rooms with a rather awkward air about them; John didn't know what Mary found so amusing but she was certainly trying not to laugh. Sherlock was walking directly behind Molly and it was very distracting…especially on the staircase. Too soon, they were standing outside their rooms with John and Mary smiling widely, hurriedly trying to get the key into the door.

"Well, goodnight…sleep tight."

Molly gave a fake smile and Sherlock scowled as Mary pulled John into their room without another word. They stood for several moments just staring at the floor, not daring to look at the other; it was the giggling from John and Mary's room that forced Sherlock to open the door that would most likely lead to a weekend of temptation ending with him being the one to give up. Molly stifled her groan when she flicked on the light and saw the large bed through to the bedroom. She automatically glanced at the sofa; it was really too small for either of them to sleep on, not to mention uncomfortable. **Fucking. Typical. **Sherlock released a deep breath as he approached Molly, titling his head at the comfortable object.

"I could try the sofa." Molly bit into her lip at his deep voice, stifling her groan as he moved towards the small seating area. He grimaced as he tried to settle down. "It's not very comfortable but-"

"No, sleep with me."

She didn't care how it sounded or how Sherlock was swallowing urgently, she meant it…in every sense of the word. Sherlock was on his feet, approaching her in two strides and stopping directly in front of her. Dark eyes stared hungrily and heavy breathing sounded; Sherlock held his breath as Molly's hands travelled towards his shirt buttons, twisting them open slowly. This was his cue to slowly bring his fingers to her zip, unnecessarily using both his hands to graze along her skin as he worked it down her body...

* * *

_Hmm, I'm quite pleased with that (especially where it was left hehehe ;) I hope you enjoyed this and, if you did, there will be two more chapters of this little thing o' mine :D Thank you so very much for reading and I hope you all have a lovely day/night :p xx Stay tuned, back soon xx_

**1/3**


	2. Part II

_Hello and welcome back. I'm sorry if I kept you waiting...if you're hoping this horrible waiting will end I'm sorry to disappoint you. I hope you like it nevertheless. :) Thank you for reading and here's 2/3 xx_

* * *

"What's so funny?"

Mary shook her head, clutching at her chest as she tried to regain her breath. John raised his eyebrows, oblivious to Mary's amusement and folding his arms as she finally turned to him.

"Oh, come on…" John shrugged and Mary rolled her eyes, "…well, you know how close Sherlock and Molly have become lately," John nodded and Mary gestured wildly, "…well, what if they've grown closer than we think? I mean, didn't you _see_ how horny they looked?"

It was John's turn to laugh. "Don't be-"

"If they're not shagging already, they will be after this trip." John bit his lip; he highly doubted his girlfriend's ridiculous theory but once she got an idea into her head it was very difficult to remove…

* * *

The purple shirt was bunched on the floor along with the crumpled cherry dress; Molly tilted her head in approval whilst Sherlock bit his lip, flexing his fingers behind his back. After a moment, Molly released a deep breath and clasped her own fidgeting hands behind her back.

"It looks to me like chasing criminals all over London might just be the best workout." Sherlock would have laughed if he wasn't so focused on the wondrous sight in front of him. He, too, released a deep breath whilst watching her underwear ensemble intently.

"So, what's your excuse?" Molly's eyes widened slightly and she swallowed thickly. Sherlock didn't remove his eyes from hers as he continued, "when you said…'sleep with me' was that your way of giving up?"

"Oh no, Mr. Holmes, I was just giving you something to think about." **Well, you've certainly done that, Miss Hooper. **

Sherlock didn't know how long they were stood watching each other's chests rise and fall with their heavy breathing but it was now dark and certainly time for bed. He pushed aside delightful images of licking and nipping at the skin around Molly's neck as they wordlessly moved either side of the bed. Molly shook away of Sherlock's hands all over her body, laying his dirty claim to her as they peeled back the sheets and climbed in, still locked in that fierce eye contact. They simply sat for a long time just hugging their knees to their chests, trying to think of some way of getting the other to give up – at least it would rid the sexual tension and they could sleep…afterwards, of course. After what seemed like hours, Molly experienced a brainwave and yawned widely, earning her a curious glance from the detective.

"It's really warm in here…isn't it?" Sherlock appeared to have caught on to her idea for he hugged his knees tighter, shaking his head, "…I might just have to sleep na-"

"Stop it. That's. Not. Fair." Sherlock's voice was a deep growl but Molly simply smiled devilishly.

"'Fair'? You're a lot sexier than I am; it's harder for me to…resist." Sherlock scoffed, turning to meet her gaze again, his breath catching when he saw her eyes clouded over from lust.

"I don't think so. I nearly had you in the bathroom at Baker Street…and on the ferry. You play the game very well, indeed, Miss Hooper."

They fell silent after this, ignoring each other for fear of falling into another dream. In the darkness of the room, they settled into an uncomfortable sleep. Unfortunately, their dreams wouldn't do as much to keep them apart…

* * *

John folded his arms, glaring at the pair fast asleep in the large double bed; their clothes were bundled in a pile in front of the bed and they were a mess of tangled limbs and sheets. He cleared his throat but neither of them stirred; instead, Molly rolled herself tighter against Sherlock and he loosely draped his arm around her. **Maybe Mary has a point. **He didn't want to wake them but as Sherlock murmured something that sounded distinctly like 'Molly', he decided he had to.

"Um…breakfast's soon…if you want it, that is…"

It was at this precise moment John was sure he had never felt more uncomfortable in his entire life; in sync with each other, Sherlock and Molly snapped their eyes open, swallowed and turned to face John. He tapped his foot with the air of a parent telling off horny teenagers. They didn't move away as Sherlock frowned.

"It isn't how it looks…haven't you ever been cold?" John couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh, come on, you expect me to _believe _that?"

Molly blushed before muttering an excuse; she climbed from the bed and dashed into the bathroom. John's ears reddened with embarrassment at the sight of Molly's underwear, even more so when he saw Sherlock hadn't averted his own eyes. He sighed deeply, sitting up in bed.

"We didn't have sex, John. You'd know if we had."

John shook his head; this wasn't something he had anticipated when Mary had sent him to 'check on them'. John opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the distinctive sound of running water from the bathroom. It was when Sherlock started to drum his fingers impatiently on the bed that John made his excuses and left them to it, muttering something about meeting them for breakfast. Molly emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, her hair dripping; Sherlock sucked on his bottom lip as she bent over her suitcase, tilting his head to get a better view. Molly tutted and shook her head.

"Do you think I'm getting dressed with you in here?" Sherlock sighed deeply and threw the covers back, gracefully extracting himself from the bed.

"No…I was _hoping._"

He picked up his discarded shirt and winked before waiting in the opposite room; Molly smirked softly and released a tiny giggle. Unfortunately for Sherlock, there was no door separating the bedroom…he was left pacing the living area, battling the inner thoughts telling him to march in there and take her. He didn't know how long he had been arguing with himself but Molly was now dried and dressed, tapping his arm irritably.

"Did you hear? Breakfast…" He tilted his head, a sly smirk creeping onto his face.

"I'm not hungry."

"Yes…you keep telling yourself that…" she gave a final wink and left their hotel room, flicking her hair and sashaying her hips more than necessary. Sherlock hastily followed, after ensuring he had closed his mouth…

* * *

John and Mary were waiting for them, quite impatiently; apparently, John just couldn't keep things to himself and just had to tell his girlfriend. They were staring at their friends with raised eyebrows, expecting them to explain themselves. Mary finally plucked up the courage with a wide smile.

"So…John tells me, you slept together…" Molly, who had been drinking orange juice at the time, proceeded to spit it everywhere; she hadn't expected such a blunt question. After cleaning herself up and a glance at a carefree looking Sherlock, decided to explain herself; Sherlock sure wasn't going to.

"Technically yes…we did but-"

"Physically, no we didn't."

John and Mary nodded in unison, still not fully convinced. Sherlock was hardly surprised due to the nature of the discovery. The next few moments were silent, nervous glances and awkward smiles were exchanged around the cosy table in the hotel restaurant. Sherlock released a very bored sigh, eyeing the posh seating area; there was hardly anyone around and the staff were very quiet workers. He stopped abruptly when he felt Molly's firm grip on his upper thigh, her light strokes causing his hand to jerk and knock the cutlery to the floor.

"Sorry."

John and Mary frowned when he didn't bother bending down to retrieve them, favouring Molly's touch more. She hastily removed her hand when a waiter approached them; Sherlock shot him an irritated look, even though he had done nothing wrong.

_"Bonne matinée, mesdames et messieurs. Parlez vous francais?"_

As expected, John, Mary and Molly shook their heads awkwardly at the rather handsome waiter whilst Sherlock sighed and muttered and very quiet _'oui'_. The waiter seemed relieved and chuckled wildly, flicking his shoulder length blond hair around pathetically.

"Oh, thank goodness…I'm English myself, really. It's nice to have a break from French all the time. What can I get you?"

The waiter winked cheekily in Molly's direction and she giggled childishly when she caught Mary's eye; John raised his eyebrows and Sherlock scowled, turning to the waiter fiercely.

"Coffee. Black, two sugars, if you can manage it."

The waiter blinked in confusion before scowling and turning to the others; Sherlock wasn't about to order himself anything to eat. Soon, the waiter had flashed his cheesiest smile and winked so many times at the ladies it looked as though he had a nervous twitch. He had returned to the kitchen; Molly and Mary were nodding in approval, causing Sherlock and John to simultaneously fold their arms sulkily.

"He sort of looked like Thor, didn't he?"

Molly choked on her orange juice, nodding eagerly at her friend who was struggling to keep her snorts at bay. John prepared for the inevitable question Sherlock would eventually ask. Sure enough, he glanced towards his confused flatmate and noticed him mouth 'Thor?' John rolled his eyes before muttering 'not a threat. Fictional'. Mary and Molly were still giggling childishly when the waiter returned with their food. He winked yet again and dragged a chair to the edge of the table,_ effectively sitting between Mary and Molly. _Seriously, the nerve. Sherlock clenched his fists beneath the table and John wriggled uncomfortably.

"So, what brings two lovely girls like you to a place like this?" The light French accent he had picked up only seemed to make Molly and Mary giggle even more. Sherlock sipped his coffee angrily as the others ate in between conversation.

"Well…we come every year, actually. We've always loved it here." Mary nodded in agreement, trying not to stare at the muscles clearly visible through his thin shirt. The waiter gave another large grin and adjusted his tie.

"Ah, if you need me to show you around," another wink, "I'm Chris."

"Oh my god. You're last name's not Hemsworth, is it?" Mary looked as though she wanted to slap herself but Chris just laughed, running a hand through his hair. John had finished eating now and was staring at the man along with Sherlock. She cleared her throat, face flushed red, "I'm Mary…that's Molly," she gestured opposite and Molly smiled politely, "this is my boyfriend, John," John gave a smug wave and Chris nodded reluctantly, "…and that's Molly's…uh, _friend, _Sherlock." Chris' eyes seemed to light up immediately and he turned to Molly; Sherlock hadn't even acknowledged his name.

"Ah, so you're not involved?" Molly gave a subtle shrug, which had gone unnoticed by everyone but Sherlock. Chris smiled again and leaned forwards, "well, my friend's just opened this club. He asked me to promote the club, you know, blah blah blah. Seriously though, it looks like good fun…you guys can come, you'll more than fit in."

Molly and Mary beamed whilst John and Sherlock exchanged hesitant glances. Chris opened his mouth but was silenced by a shout from the kitchen.

_"Oi, tu paresseux petite merde! Retourner au travail ou dois-je déduire de votre salaires?"_

He winced before one final wide smile and getting to his feet. "Ill see you there tonight. It's just up the road, the little club called Le Chambre de Diamant. I must dash, emergency…apparently they can't handle things without me."

"Interesting. That's not what your boss said. Unless 'lazy little shit' means emergency. He'll deduct your wages, too? Sounds like they _really _need your help?"

Chris scowled at Sherlock before hurrying away from the chuckling detective. Mary began fanning herself leaning back in her chair.

"Well, it looks like we've got our night planned, eh?" John and Sherlock sighed grumpily whilst the other two giggled childishly; Sherlock knew nothing good could come from something named 'The Diamond House'…

* * *

Sherlock was very bored; he had agreed to go into the town with the others mostly to keep close to Molly, even though her outfit was entirely distracting. It was a warm day indeed and both women had selected long dresses to pair with oversized hats and sunglasses, easily slipping on sandals. Mary and John walked in front, arm-in-arm, leaving Sherlock and Molly behind to shoot each other longing glances every few minutes. She bit her lip and lowered her voice.

"It's really too warm for you to be wearing a shirt…" he smirked, placing his fidgeting hands into his pockets.

"Yes. It's also too hot for a dress. That will be fixed soon."

Mary and John had conveniently stopped outside a market and were too engrossed in their shopping to notice Sherlock pulling Molly into an alleyway and pressing her against the wall. Molly's delight was obvious as she gripped tightly to his hair, biting hard into her lip to keep from giving up right there; her hat had been knocked to the floor in the process and her sunglasses had slipped down her nose. Sherlock tilted his head, allowing the hands pressing her shoulders to the wall to slide down her exposed arms appreciatively. He gripped her hips, attempting to slide her dress up her body. Before either could say or do anything, they felt their legs being prodded by a broom and turned to an annoyed elderly lady.

_"Non, je ne veux pas de votre genre ici! J'ai pensé que vous exploité seulement la nuit."_

Sherlock chuckled before reluctantly extracting himself from Molly's grip, bending to retrieve her hat. The lady shooed them away and Molly swallowed, tapping Sherlock's arm.

"What did she say?" Sherlock met her gaze and smirked devilishly, passing her hat back over.

"Ah, she said 'no, I do not want your kind here! I thought you only operated at night.' Needless to say, she thought you were a prostitute. A rather impatient one."

Molly's mouth had dropped open and glanced behind her; the woman was cleaning the path, mumbling to herself and shooting the two disgusted glances. Molly frowned and turned back to Sherlock as they moved towards the still distracted John and Mary.

"As if…you were the one who pulled me-"

He shushed her as they neared their friends; Mary had found the perfect pair of shoes to wear to the new club that evening and John had even found himself a fridge magnet for his mother. After getting all hot and bothered in the alleyway neither appeared interested in the many stalls on the market. They found a quiet café in the middle of the town and John complained about the many different 'revolting' items on the menu, promptly insulting everyone in the café. Sherlock spent his time getting revenge on Molly for breakfast, choosing to place his hand to her knee when she was precariously holding her fork. She proceeded to drop the item and conceal her soft moan with a believable cough. Sherlock managed to keep a straight face as his hand gently and teasingly slowly travelled over the cloth covering her skin. He removed it quickly much like she had done to him but there was no mistaking her irritated huff. She barely pulled off a sneeze but it seemed to satisfy John and Mary.

They soon departed for the hotel to prepare for their night out; it sounded to Sherlock like John and Mary weren't doing a very good job at getting dressed but he tried not to think about it. He and Molly avoided each other as they got ready; Sherlock didn't see the point in changing from his white shirt and trousers, although Molly had hinted at him by placing his purple shirt across the bed. He promptly showered and returned to the bedroom to find Molly in her underwear, debating what outfit to wear, her back facing the bathroom door.

"What do you think? This or-"

She had turned around and groaned at the sight before her, silently cursing the detective; he had wrapped a towel around his lower half and there was something about the water still clinging to his fine muscles that made Molly's mouth water. She may have seen it all the previous night but this felt different. **I can't wait to run my hands all over you, Sherlock Holmes. **He quirked an eyebrow and approached her, never breaking their intense eye contact as he pointed at the red dress from the night they had watched the movie; this of course led to their encounter in 221B's bathroom.

"This one," his growl was determined but Molly flicked her tongue across her lips. She placed her hands on her hips and held up an equally appealing blue dress, "hmm, you'll attract too much attention in both. I suggest you stay here with me and we have a thorough de-clothing session…"

She reached forwards, itching to trace the lines on his chest and over his toned stomach. Molly swallowed but managed to resist and breathe deeply.

"Tempting. But, I'm not giving up, Mr. Holmes."

"Well, neither am I. It looks like we'll be playing this game forever, Miss Hooper."

Molly sighed as he stepped slowly away from her and moved over to his side of the bed. They dressed in tortured silence, each releasing needless noises and groans now and again in an effort to bring the other around. It was beginning to wear them down and both were certain it wasn't going to last much longer…

* * *

They arrived outside the club recommended by Chris and immediately noticed him waiting enthusiastically outside for them; Mary had selected a modest emerald green dress with matching strappy heels and John a simple shirt and jeans combo. After much inner struggle (and failed 'purple shirt persuasion'), Molly had gone for the purple dress and sandals; she hated wearing heels, especially when drinking. Chris kissed both Molly and Mary on both cheeks, shaking John's hand and avoiding Sherlock too.

"I'm glad you could make it…do you want to meet my friend? The owner…he said drinks are on the house for my friends…"

Mary and Molly nodded gratefully and John rubbed his hands together, not being the one to refuse an offer like that. Sherlock pondered if friendships could be formed in a day before remembering the day he and John had met. They were shown inside and the nose immediately deafened them; many people were already tipsy and dancing around making fools of themselves. The group were then moved to a private booth with the owner, who turned out to be none other than Freddie, the charismatic barman from the ship. He had dramatically waved them over and licked his lips at his luck. Sherlock groaned as he was forced to sit next to the hot-pink-half-open-shirt wearing man who had taken a something of a shine to him. He stiffened as Freddie's arm draped around his shoulders; he didn't want to throw him off and get thrown out, the flashing lights illuminated Molly perfectly and she looked heavenly. This wasn't exactly the most comfortable situation either. Freddie cleared his throat and leaned forwards, raising his voice over the music.

"What do you think, darlings?"

Everyone nodded their praises, all except Sherlock who was keeping a tally of every time Molly drank something; she appeared to be only having alcohol in moderation. They apparently had the same idea…tonight was going to be the night. Sherlock's discomfort grew when Freddie began stroking over his back and arms; he was used to keeping control and calm but he found himself on his feet, pulling Molly to the dancefloor. Freddie sighed in disappointment, his shoulders slumping until a group of young men seated themselves on the opposite table. He winked at Mary and John before departing, glaring at the giggling couple behind him. Mary turned her eyes to the dancefloor and the passionate explosion she was certain she was going to witness.

"I thought you didn't dance?"

Sherlock's eyes drifted closed when she pressed her head to his, speaking directly into his ear. The music blared and the lights flashed as Sherlock pulled Molly tight against him; they could feel each other's breathing and the beats of the music ran through them. He smirked and seized her hands forcefully.

"I have never said that," he moved them quickly around the dancefloor, ignoring the weird looks from the other clubbers, "I don't like to boast."

Molly audibly scoffed, her hair jumping on her shoulders as they moved together. Their hips seemed to be joined together, their vigorous movements caused Sherlock's hands to 'slip' to her waist, guiding her ever so slightly. Mary raised her eyebrows in amusement and nudged a drowsy John.

"It's like watching Dirty Dancing or something…you never told me Sherlock could _dance_…" John shrugged and lazily ran his hand through his hair, tilting his head.

"It looks more…x-rated dancing to me…everyone's stopped to watch!"

Indeed, several dancers had stopped to watch Molly laid her hands on Sherlock's chest, apparently forgetting they were in public. **I didn't know he was that desperate to get away from Freddie. Where is he, anyway? **John glanced behind him and sure enough, the handsome club owner had 'gotten off' with one of the men at the table. No, make that _two. _Yep, two of the four men got up from their seats and followed Freddie through to the office. He shot them a triumphant glance which was returned with a wink from Mary. John groaned and dropped his head in his hands.

"We should stop them…" Mary's eyes widened and she shook her head, watching as Sherlock's hands continued travelling south while Molly's moved to his hair.

"Yeah…you're probably- oh, it doesn't matter, Freddie's having a word…"

John looked up to see Freddie winking at Sherlock before hurrying back to his office; his shirt was now completely undone. John would hazard a guess that Freddie had just given Sherlock an exclusive offer to join him. Sherlock and Molly, apparently realising what they had just done, smiled awkwardly before returning to their friends to rapturous applause. The collapsed into chairs and fanned their flushed faces, Sherlock hastily doing his buttons. John shook his head.

"That was a nice…show…"

Sherlock glared at his friend who buried himself in his drink so as not to laugh. The tamer pair were further astonished when Molly climbed into Sherlock's lap and rested her forehead against his, slowly rubbing herself against him. John and Mary's mouths fell open as Sherlock fumbled at the back of her dress, no doubt searching for her zip; their breathing was quick and hot on each other's faces. They both fantasised about getting the other sweaty in a much cosier environment. John and Mary exchanged glances before she snorted.

"For god's sake, get a room."

Sherlock stopped dead upon hearing this, Molly's hands also stilling on his hips. Wordlessly, she clambered down and grabbed his hand; Sherlock didn't need pulling to his feet as they almost ran towards the exit of the club. Mary sighed, drinking the last of her drink.

"They're going to…" she made a whistling sound and John nodded, grimacing.

"Yeah, it looks like it…"

* * *

_Hmmm, looks like I can't escape it now lol ;) I hope you liked that chapter...xx stay tuned, it's getting hot in France now ;p xx_


	3. Part III

_Hello and welcome back for the final time, ladies and gents :) well, well, well, will I be nice or not? Shall we find out, lol...xx_

* * *

The night air was warm and fresh, a light wind brushed past and cooled clubbers who were relaxing outside. But even the light breeze couldn't cool the heat surging through the couple dashing hurriedly down the street towards their hotel. Sherlock and Molly faintly heard Chris calling after them but were too busy to care about his words. Neither were sure who was pulling whom but they managed to make it quickly across the street and tumble through the entrance, attempting to compose themselves and hide their desire; they didn't want to attract the attention of the staff. They nonchalantly made their way towards the lifts, avoiding each other's gaze but the receptionist was waving them over exaggeratingly.

_"Monsieur Holmes, pardonnez-moi_…uh…message…" the receptionist was grinning broadly and Sherlock groaned impatiently, glancing towards Molly as he tried not to run towards the desk.

"What? Oh, it's just Mycroft…leave it," Sherlock was tapping his fingers impatiently on the desk and the receptionist looked blank, smiling falsely. Sherlock scowled, gritting his teeth, "um…it's my brother, _mon frère_. Not important," another confused glance and Sherlock was almost jumping up and down in his haste, his lust-clouded mind working at its maximum, "_pas d'importance. _Good night- _bonne nuit."_

He turned around and frowned when he saw Molly had disappeared, most likely to wait by the lifts. He found her nearby, scowling at the out of order sign in the middle of the elevator; Sherlock wasn't known for his patient demeanour and forcefully tugged Molly in the direction of the stairwell. They staggered upstairs, each step they took only increased their need for each other, their excitement building as they pondered their upcoming night. Molly ran as fast as her jellied legs would carry her, her heart racing as she could feel Sherlock behind her. He caught up with her and wrapped his hands around her waist, breathing into her ear.

"Molly…I-"

"No…not here. We're…almost there…"

She had been wrong. It had been almost two floors later and both were getting desperate; Sherlock had to forcefully restrain his hands several times. They emerged into the hallway, glancing quickly down the hall before gripping each other's hands and heading towards their room.

"Key…" Molly breathed down his neck; she had pressed herself tight against his back and draped her arms over his shoulders, massaging his chest slowly. Sherlock rummaged in his trouser pockets whilst Molly removed her hands and thoroughly searched his back pockets. He swallowed hard, his voice husky.

"Didn't you have it?" Molly frowned, her nose buried in his sweet-smelling hair and only just managing to shake her head; the CCTV cameras were certainly getting an eyeful. Molly gulped audibly before resting her chin on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Well…we'll have to call someone…" Molly's breath caressed his skin teasingly and Sherlock huffed; not even caring anymore, he attempted to kick the door down. Molly stopped him though, and pointed at the lock, "can't you pick the lock?"

Sherlock mumbled something about it being the same thing before sighing and removing his card, slotting it through the door. It worked and the door clicked open, delighting the flustered pair waiting eagerly outside.

* * *

John tapped his fingers impatiently on the table and Mary smiled smugly, folding her arms. Finally, after much silent thinking, John shook his head.

"No. There's no way Sherlock and Molly left to…do _that._ I know Sherlock, if there's one thing he doesn't do it's 'relationships'."

"Who said anything about 'relationships'? For all we know this could be a…" she gestured with her hands, until clicking her fingers after finding the right words, "'when you gotta, you gotta' kind of thing."

John snorted and tapped his chin, tilting his head. "Still, it's peculiar…I know they've gotten closer but are they really that close?"

Mary smirked deviously before leaning close to his ear, eliminating the need to shout over the music.

"There's only one way to find out." John had been about to protest when his arm was tugged at fiercely by his girlfriend, determined to discover the truth.

* * *

The room door hit the wall with a resounding crash, probably rousing several snoozing guests but neither Sherlock nor Molly cared in the slightest as they tumbled inside, hastily trying to remove their shoes. Molly's sandals were kicked aside and Sherlock hopped on one leg to pull off his expensive Armani's, having given up trying to work his fumbling hands with the laces. For a moment they simply watched each other's chests rise and fall rapidly, betraying the passion they had for each other. The door was kicked closed then and the hotel room was plunged into darkness. For some reason, this only elevated their desire; there was something about not knowing where he was or what he was doing that excited Molly. He could be standing in front of her, teasingly reaching forwards or circling her slowly to approach from behind. Sherlock felt exhilarated and his hands were craving for touch, he couldn't stand it anymore. He stepped forwards confidently, certain she hadn't moved an inch – **cat and mouse, Miss Hooper…I like it **– but found himself crashing into something soft and hot almost directly in front of him.

"What are you waiting for?" Molly's voice was breathy and barely audible and, knowing she couldn't see him, Sherlock smirked widely.

"I'm just playing the game." Sherlock's voice was huskier and deeper than he had expected; he heard her soft chuckle, impatience clear in her voice.

"Mary gave up for us, remember?"

Sherlock grinned and brought his hand forwards, grazing the skin above her chest to her throat, almost feeling it tingle beneath his touch. They barely registered the muffled arguing outside the door and the sound of the door again and the light flickering on. He dropped his hand to his side and whirled to face an apologetic John and questioning Mary; it was clear she had intended to burst in on them 'at it'. She frowned and took in their irritated looks, registering John's silent nudges.

"Oh, sorry…uh, sweet dreams…sorry to interrupt…"

They backed out slowly, John mortified and Mary confused, leaving the lights on as the door swung shut behind them. **What was she expecting to see? Oh, I don't care. **The second it was closed, Sherlock and Molly simultaneously seized the front of each other's clothing and both were pulled into the most ferocious kiss either had ever experienced. Sherlock wasn't sure where his hands wanted to roam first but settled for running his fingers through her hair as they attacked each other's lips. Molly's own fingers danced playfully along his shirt, dropping lower and lower until he stepped away, both breathing heavily through their mouths to get as much air as possible.

"I…knew you'd be…good at…that…"

They caught each other's eye at the simultaneous statement before swollen lips magnetised together again. He didn't care how impatient he was, he wanted to trace every line on her body, feel every curve and study her as carefully as possible. Molly's hands were in his hair, curling the silky black strands around her fingers and tugging ever so slightly. The both moaned at the feel and Sherlock moved away from her lips to kiss down her creamy neck. He drank in her moans and soft sighs, his hands dropping to her hips and bringing her closer to him. Sherlock landed on the bed as Molly moved them forwards, her shaky hands working hard at his buttons.

"For God's…sake…"

Sherlock was certain she was close to ripping them clean off and settled for claiming her lips again, grasping her hands to steady them; they didn't pause when both felt a vibration from Sherlock's pocket. He hastily removed his phone and threw it against the wall, returning his hand to caress her thighs; Mycroft wasn't going to disturb them tonight. Molly hummed in satisfaction as she finally managed to slip the white shirt from his muscled shoulders and back, tossing it into a corner somewhere, raking her nails all over his chest and trailing her lips down his torso.

"Molly-"

_"Yes, Sherlock?"_

She raised a questioning eyebrow, sitting up and grinning at his scowl; he was clearly enjoying the feel of her soft 'too small' lips grazing over his body with her sharp, pleasurable nails following. She giggled manically as Sherlock rolled them over and began his tedious search for her elusive dress zip. There was urgent need for contact once more so he pressed his lips to hers hungrily and roamed her still clothed breasts. They were so lost in each other and the feeling of soft, hot skin, both jumped when the room's phone rang loudly. Sherlock, still focusing entirely on Molly, reached blindly for the phone, breaking away from her lips only momentarily.

_"Fuck off."_

The phone was slammed down hard, missing the receiver and Sherlock immediately returned to Molly, pressing hard kisses around the top of her dress. Giggling, moaning and sighs filled the room, both ignoring the soft squeaking sounds from the phone; Sherlock felt her hands pushing gently at his chest and moved away to observe her heaving frame and swollen lips.

"Protection?" This was all Molly could manage under the circumstances but she was replied with a roll of the eyes and a scoff.

"Do you really think I'd go this far and not come prepared?"

He chuckled slightly, tapping his trouser pocket and resuming the passionate claim of her lips, his hands refusing to behave themselves…

* * *

Freddie stopped in the middle of the dancefloor to retrieve the room key that had dropped from the fit detective's pocket. He shrugged, wondering if he should return them; the sight of Sherlock in pyjamas was too tempting and he found himself smirking. There was an undeniable chemistry between them, of course; Freddie felt that with everyone. He winked at Chris, a signal he was 'on the pull' and therefore leaving him in charge. Chris rolled his eyes but smiled at his friend and Freddie was off, waltzing towards the hotel the key belonged to. A thought occurred to him, then. **What if Sherlock left it on purpose? He knew I'd find it…oooh. **His steps quickened but he was side-lined several times by anyone who managed to turn his head as they walked past (Chris often said he had a 'Captain Jack complex', whatever that meant). He walked confidently down the street and fixed his long hair, his smile large as he entered the large building…

* * *

"There, that's better…isn't it…"

"No."

Sherlock had located Molly's zip, only to get it stuck halfway down. She had giggled whereas he cursed the designer of such a retched item. Her suggestion of simply rucking up the dress hadn't gone down well. Even after a demonstration; he tilted his head, his hair severely messy and skin flushed red.

"Just lift it over your head…it's not that tight. Please…" he was pouting and it was gorgeous, to be honest. Completely irresistible in fact and Molly sighed, gesturing for his help.

"This is romantic…" Sherlock tugged forcefully but the dress wouldn't budge and he chuckled.

"Romantic? We should take it slower if you want romance…candles and wine, all that stuff people do." She smirked and caressed his cheek softly, her nails grazing over his sharp cheekbones.

"Absolutely not…I want you, now…"

This seemed to be enough motivation for Sherlock; he seized the bottom of the garment and fiercely pulled it over her head in one go. He smiled satisfactorily and folded his arms, drinking in every single aspect of her. He didn't have long to marvel at the wonderful sight, though, for Molly was wrenching at his belt, forgetting it needed to be unbuckled first. Neither registered the sound of the door opening as the trousers were tossed aside. Freddie frowned at the muffled 'ready?' and the soft reply of 'oh, yes'. He was frozen to the spot at the sound of ripping; **what is he doing? Who is he with? Maybe I should leave. **He turned on his heel but stopped at a short giggle that turned into a strangled moan. He peered into the bedroom; he could faintly make out two pairs of entwined legs and dents in the mattress every now and again. **Ah, looks like he's already having some fun. I'll just go and check what time that receptionist finishes work and if Chris is drunk yet. **He closed the door louder than he expected and Molly paused, lifting her head from Sherlock's neck.

"What was that?"

"I don't know…I don't care…so don't…stop…"

Molly shrugged it away, resuming the hip-rocking movements Sherlock had enjoyed so much; it was very experimental, searching for what the other liked and making mental notes for round two. Soon, they were going at it, quickly and roughly; Molly was on her back with Sherlock above her, biting down into her skin as he pounded her. Oh god, it was good. They couldn't be close enough to each other as their sweat-soaked bodies rubbed passionately together. They could no longer contain themselves and were audibly sighing and moaning pleasurably, not caring about their neighbours. Molly's breathy whispers of his name into his ear whilst she gripped tightly to his hair was enough to drive Sherlock mad with desire and only made things more erratic. Molly's name sounded beautiful falling from Sherlock's lips as he tried to keep it in; it was bliss, only they got to see this side to each other. Their blackened eyes, the animalistic need to be inside each other and their shared body movements were theirs and only theirs to enjoy. Neither could believe they managed to last as long as they did in the circumstances but Sherlock and Molly had both been thoroughly…fucked.

He managed to collapse next to her, their heads where their feet normally would be at the bottom of the bed. Neither realised how loud they had been before but now they blushed, avoiding each other's gaze. They were breathing rapidly; Molly's hair was heavily knotted and Sherlock's chest displayed lipstick marks and scratches, both their necks covered in lovebites. The pillows were askew and some had even fallen to the floor.

"You…you lost…" Sherlock shook his head vigorously at Molly's claim. He turned his heavy head towards her, noting how she was biting into her lip, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.

"No…we…we both…won…I think…" Molly nodded in agreement and shimmied towards him, snuggling against his chest.

After their breathing returned to normal, Sherlock disappeared into the bathroom and Molly sighed contentedly, wondering who on Earth wanted to bother them so urgently earlier. This was when she noticed, with a horrifying lurch, the phone was hanging from the table.

"Don't worry. I daresay they hung up before they heard anything." Molly bit her lip, hoping he was right. She was sticky with sweat and was eager for a shower, Sherlock's fidgeting told her he was too. She turned to him and traced her fingers delicately over his scratches.

"I didn't mention it before but…you're beautiful…" Sherlock chuckled and pulled her close to him, kissing her forehead gently.

"So are you, Miss Hooper. More than I first thought," he paused and swallowed, "um, how…how was…it?"

Molly couldn't help but chuckle; she had never heard Sherlock stutter before but he really had nothing to worry about. That being said, Molly couldn't help but mess with him.

"Hmm, good, Sherlock. A six I'd say…" his eyes widened, clearly about to protest but Molly flicked her tongue across her lips, "we can try and boost it to a seven if you want?"

She was pulling him to the bathroom and, pride and ego bruised, Sherlock pouted but allowed himself to be dragged along, muttering to himself.

"Six…you seemed to like it, if your decibel level was anything to go by…" Molly giggled as Sherlock wrapped his arms around her waist and moved them into the shower. She bit her lip, gazing into his blue eyes.

"Hmm…maybe an eight…" his grin was childish and smug; Molly was only too pleased to wipe it away with a searing kiss…

* * *

Sherlock and Molly joined John and Mary at their breakfast table, hand in hand. John raised his eyebrows and even Mary looked surprised. They sat opposite their friends and waited for the onslaught of questions. Finally, Mary narrowed her eyes and folded her arms.

"Well…congratulations, I suppose. I hope it was worth us losing sleep…"

Sherlock and Molly caught each other's eye and both nodded in agreement; John couldn't help but smile at his smitten friends. They sat in silence for a few moments and watched a hungover Chris manoeuvre between guests whilst avoiding his boss' tea towel. The receptionist of the hotel approached and gave Sherlock the message he wasn't interested in last night, grumbling to himself in French as he stomped away. Sherlock sighed and tore the letter open; it wasn't yesterday's…this one was new.

_Dear brother,_

_Ignoring my texts doesn't work. How do I know you won't tear this up? Because I have some interesting information you'd be interested in. Apparently, if your Inspector is correct, you have left for France with the-_

Sherlock was on the brink of tearing the letter in half but skipped ahead to the part Mycroft deemed interesting.

_-and this is where the interesting information comes into play. As you know, I attempted to text but found you weren't replying. I then attempted to catch you off-guard (not something I am an expert at doing, you understand) by placing a call at your hotel._

Sherlock felt his ears growing pink as he continued to read his brother's fancy scrawl.

_Now, brother…language like that isn't acceptable. I am aware of your closeness and strange attraction to that pathologist you work with. If I was unfortunate to interrupt your relations with her I do apologise. I obviously disconnected as soon as I realised what I had stumbled upon. Although, it is nice to hear you are taking care and being safe. I hope you have a nice holiday and, for the sake of my future sanity, please ensure you place the phone down properly afterwards. Your brother, Mycroft_

Molly, who had been reading over Sherlock's shoulder, was also blushing and biting her lip. He tucked the letter away, making a mental note to kill his brother when he returned to London. He frowned at John and Mary who were simply staring into space.

"Well? By now you usually ask what that was all about." Mary finished her coffee and smacked her lips several times before looking at the detective smugly.

"Oh, we don't need to…Mycroft sent us a copy," Molly choked on her drink and Sherlock scowled, especially at the way John was trying not to laugh, "yeah, he didn't want to leave us out…"

Mycroft could do anything he wanted, now, Sherlock didn't care. His attempts to embarrass him had lasted only a short while. Sherlock had something that Mycroft couldn't ruin, a relationship with his pathologist. They stayed in their hotel room for the remainder of their trip, leaving the phone off the hook and locking the door so no one could interrupt them. John and Mary wouldn't next see them until they had to leave for the ferry on the way back, both oddly tanned and smiling widely, hands intertwined fiercely. This had certainly been a trip to remember…

* * *

_xx Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed this little story. If you want, check out my other stories...thank you so much and have a nice day/evening ;) xx_


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